


Consumption

by HappyLeech



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Death, Eaten alive, Gen, Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyLeech/pseuds/HappyLeech
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strelats are a bitch, huh?<br/>--<br/>For hushitisme who wanted Agent getting eaten alive by something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consumption

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hushitisme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hushitisme/gifts).



Agent was almost beginning to regret taking a job with Ada Wong. There were enough decent and not completely awful, jobs they'd done before, but China was different. And he didn't like it. 

They'd split up- Ada was looking for Simmons and Agent had gone out to do some recon. Unfortunately for him, he'd managed to walk into a street filled with what looks like cocoons, which had hatched into some strange lizard like B.O.W's. They were fast, and shot some kind of spiked barbs when threatened. And since he wasn't a J’avo, he was a threat.

He'd been able to kill three of the five that'd hatched, but the last two were giving him trouble. Hissing behind him alerted him to another barrage of barbs, and he leapt to the side. Last thing he needed was to be speared by one of the long, boney spikes, especially when he had less than none ammo. 

And of course with his luck, that thought was punctuated by a stinging in his shoulder, and his sidearm clattering to the ground. 

“Oh fucking-“ 

He rolled with the pain, slapping his free hand to his shoulder. The barb hadn't gone through, but had just nicked him. That didn't explain why he's dropped his handgun, though.

One of the B.O.W’s was wounded, but not dead, and the other was scurrying towards him, hissing but not flaunting it's frills. 

That was…new. And worrying. 

 

Also worrying: how his legs collapsed from under him. 

 

He hit the ground with a thud, smacking his head into the side of a crate on the way down. It was official- this was the worst goddamn mission he’d been on.

Pulling himself up- or trying to pull himself up- Agent swore, scrambling for a grip on the crate and on his knife. 

“Miss Wong? Do you copy?”

His fingers didn't seem to want to work, the ones on the injured arm least of all, and he was beginning to think he was in trouble. Not that his voice would have betrayed that. He was going to keep it professional at all times…even if he seemed to be lacking motor controls suddenly. 

“Uh Miss Wong? If you hear this, I appear to be in some trouble- I'm on north street, south-west quadrant-“ he cut off, hissing to himself.

Static crackled in his ear- maybe he'd hit his coms on the crate on the way down- and it was with a sudden, stark clarity that Agent realized he was alone.

“…fuck.”

It was almost a whisper, but it seemed to echo through the street, bouncing from crates to cars to locked doors and windows. 

The last thing he did while he had mobility was lock his coms in the open position. 

Maybe he'd be able to come in contact with Miss Wong eventually, but as a claw was driven through the top of his boot, dragging him flat onto the ground and towards the lizards, he had his doubts. 

Coms gone, mobility gone, feeling gone, Agent tried to move, to wriggle away best he could. But all his feeble movements served to do was aggravate the B.O.W’s- strelats, Miss Wong had called them- and he felt the claw pierce his foot.

It should have hurt, but his pain receptors seemed to be on a break- a dull pressure and a wet feeling all he experienced. 

And he couldn't do anything. 

He was still breathing, that was a plus, but as the claw was removed and the pair of B.O.W’s moved closer, he was beginning to question his stroke of mediocre luck. He couldn’t ward them off- he could barely twitch his fingers- and he couldn’t get away. 

He was truly fucked.

Struggling to keep calm, Agent listened as the B.O.W’s moved closer and closer, their nails clicking on the pavement. If he’d been a weaker man, maybe he’d have screamed, or cried out for help, but his training forced that urge back. He was a damn professional, and if the strelats didn’t kill him, he had at least one bullet he could eat to ease the pain.

Not that he could feel it.

Despite everything though, he made a strangled noise as one of the monsters nosed at him, before it opened it’s mouth wide. It was going to- it was going to bite him.

“…Miss Wong, please pick up, or answer, or anything,” he said, eyes wide and watching the needle sharp teeth. Maybe it would just…leave. It wasn’t really going to bite him, was it?

He didn’t feel the bite, but at the same time he did.

There was a crack as the body amour bents and snapped, and he groaned at the pressure, then gasped as the pressure eased, and the wetness grew. 

Then it tore at his side, and that he did feel.

Pins and needles radiated out, and he swore loudly, eyes panicked. It…it hurt, but it didn’t. If he hadn’t been hit by the barb, he’d be passed out, probably. Bleeding out on the street while the monsters chewed on him. 

Instead he was awake for the experience. 

The second strelat loped over, and joined the first, sticking it’s…muzzle or face or whatever it had into Agent’s abdomen, pulling at…god…his intestines.

His intestines and entire lower body and his leg. 

His leg was gone, and he’d barely felt it.

Agent watched as the B.O.W’s tore at him, strings of bloody tissue dangling from their mouths, viscera splattering on the ground as they ate. One chewed at his leg, ignoring the blood spouting from the torso, flooding the ground.

He was crying, muttering, swearing, pleading and begging.

No. No. Stop. Please. 

Nothing hurt, but everything hurt, and talking was the only thing he could do.

How could he have let this happen? How was he just…letting this happen?

“Miss Wong, I believe I’m bleeding out. I- I don’t-“ he began to cough, spitting out blood. “…fuc…fuck.”

Bleeding out was one thing, but drowning in your own blood was another, and maybe it was a waste, but he used the last of his strength to turn his head to the side. It'd at least make breathing easier, although he was beginning to think that wouldn't be something to worry about soon. 

He shuddered, watching through lidded eyes as the strelats dug through his organs. Pulled him into pieces. At least they were content to stick to his guts- he didn’t think he could handle them going for the throat.

Was he in shock? Probably- it was the only way to explain the calmness he was suddenly feeling. 

“…nt, come in. Agent, are you there?”

Miss Wong. Finally, and too late. How long had she been calling for him?

“Miss Wong-“ he cut off, coughing up more blood. It was filling his mask, but it wasn't anything compared to the blood loss from his ravaged lower half.

If only he could remove the damn thing, but as it was he doubted he was going to be able to talk to Miss Wong for much longer. 

“…’m sorry Miss Wong…bleeding out…” he slurred, and he could swear that she swore.

“Where. Where are you.”

At least she was asking for simple things. That he could answer.

“South-west quad. North street. B.O.W’s,” he replied, before gasping. 

Whatever was in the barb was beginning to wear off, and suddenly he was feeling more than pins and needles. 

Dull aches, sharp pains, and the complete agony of his injuries made Agent finally break. Sobbing, swearing, and screaming echoed in his helmet, and Miss Wong listened to it all. 

“Agent, Agent!” She was yelling, but ae ignored her. He’d lost too much blood, and his focus was shot. Agony was all he could feel, all he knew. 

“…sorry…” he managed the gurgle, trying to focus on the sound of blood in his lungs. The pain was intense, but it was fading again. 

And then he didn't feel anything at all. 

 

“Agent Hayden! Come in!”

Ada swore again, her coms giving her nothing but static and muffled noises as she fired her hookshot into another fire escape.

She couldn’t bare to think that Hayden- her Agent- could have been taken down, but the screaming, the crying…

It was taking her much too long to get to his location, and as she tumbled onto the street he’d told her about, she frowned.

There was nothing there.

Or, rather, there was a great deal of blood, his handgun, and a steady dripping noise.

As Ada moved towards the blood stain on the pavement, something splattered on her gloves. 

“…Agent?” she asked, and then she looked up. And god, she wished she hadn’t as the half-eaten body of Agent Hayden fell from the grip of the B.O.W above her, crashing onto the ground.

And that was when the other one came up behind her, and attacked.


End file.
